


Exchange

by slasher48



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-Deposition, Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-14
Updated: 2012-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-29 13:22:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slasher48/pseuds/slasher48
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark’s grown into being a great boyfriend the same way as he grew into being an adept CEO. Even Dustin notices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exchange

He doesn't notice it until Dustin notices it.

"Wardo must turn you into some kind of cute, fuzzy animal, Marky Mark. One that like, morphs into a gigantic purple monster with sharp teeth around everybody else."

Mark rolls his eyes—his default expression around Dustin, always has been—and flicks a sharp gesture of "go the fuck away" in his direction.

"I know you have work to do, Dustin. In fact, I assigned it, and as it is not in my inbox for revision I am absolutely certain you still haven't done it."

Dustin rolls his eyes back (and nobody does it like Mark, of course, but Dustin looks like one of those pets with the glue-on googly-eyes; Mark constantly has to stop himself from laughing at him) and jabs Mark in the shoulder as he walks away.

"Fine then, asshole. I was just going to tell you that Wardo told me he wouldn't be here for lunch today: he canceled a bunch of meetings to stay home 'cause he's got some kind'a stomach bug, I guess."

Mark's head snaps up and his voice wavers a little,

"What? He was perfect this morning when I left; how could he have- ~~"~~

 ~~~~But sharpens again right away when Dustin smirks and chuckles,

"Gotcha."

"I could fire you, Dustin. I really could; it's in your contract that I'm allowed to."

Dustin ignores him; apparently even a purple monster with sharp teeth doesn't intimidate the all-time Halo champion of Kirkland (and possibly—now that Eduardo and he have admitted they were kind of always  _more_ , his best friend). He just laughs some more and walks out to his desk, while Mark rubs his forehead and contemplates gluing his ass to the chair like some kind of juvenile delinquent (or at least paying somebody to do it—it's the thought that counts).

Eduardo does, in fact, show up for lunch, as usual (and Mark didn't call, though he did eventually admit to himself after the fifty-sixth glance at his phone ruined yet another line of code that he wanted to), and he looks absolutely fine, fuck off Dustin. Mark leans up for his usual kiss hello and smiles when he realizes Eduardo brushed his teeth to get the taste of coffee at which Mark always wrinkles his nose out of his mouth before he came. It's one of the many things Wardo does that makes him irresistible and irreversibly  _Mark's_  (because someday, if he left, he'd still end up brushing his teeth out of habit, and whoever liked the coffee taste would be shit out of luck 'cause Mark had him first).

"Mmm...mmm, Mark. Mark, we can't just make out like we're kids. You haven't eaten all day, I know you haven't—” he probably called Dustin, the overbearing mother hen, and that shouldn't make Mark smile "—and I brought you your favorite from that place down the street."

Mark ignores him, as he is wont to do when Eduardo tastes like cinnamon toothpaste and smells like the spicy cologne he only wears for Mark, and just drags him further down, until he stumbles and falls onto his knees on Mark's chair, almost knocking both of them backward. He licks every inch of Eduardo's mouth until they're both panting and then drags slickly down the gilded cords of his neck, digging his fingers into Eduardo's ribs as he tries to pull away and be mature and paternal again; that's not going to happen if he can help it.

"Shit...shit, Mark, you look so—" Mark smirks as Eduardo stares blatantly at his mouth, and then, just to fuck with him (because he's oh-so-good at it), reaches for the paper bag his lover brought, unwraps the sandwich he enjoys so much, and bites a huge chunk out of it while Eduardo's still recovering.

He laughs a little disgustingly as he chews when Eduardo's sound of frustration bounces back off the glass walls of his office and head butts his chest slightly, eyes narrow and, as Eduardo would put it (and does, ugh), warm.

Eduardo can't help but smile, even as he picks a sliver of ham out of Mark's sandwich and pops it into his mouth.

"You're constantly stealing my food, Wardo. It's pretty counterproductive to your insisting I eat it in the first place," he teases after he's swallowed, leaning forward to bite the next bit of meat Eduardo pilfers right out of his fingers, licking them on purpose. Eduardo's breath hitches the tiniest bit; Mark has to take another huge mouthful of sandwich to stop himself smiling like a fucking moron (or Dustin: and that's redundant).

"Dustin says I turn into a cuddly animal around you, Wardo," Mark says, kind of amused now, where he was annoyed earlier. It's an absurd thought, the mental image of himself as some kind of small and furry creature with large eyes, Eduardo cuddling him in his arms (though the latter's definitely not that odd). Eduardo must be picturing it too, because he lets out a breathy laugh and then shifts until he can perch on Mark's desk instead of straining Mark's chair, smiling at Mark like he  _is_  in fact what he was picturing.

Mark rolls his eyes, more playfully than he would at Dustin, and chomps on the last piece of sandwich as he punches Eduardo's knee lightly and says,

"I know what you're thinking, and it's beyond weird, so stop it."

Eduardo raises an eyebrow and kicks his chair, equally lightly, not actually wanting his squeaky wheels to roll him away from him (and Jesus, he's been spending too much time with a certain sappy Brazilian if he's having thoughts like that).

"Weird?"

"Remember what we were doing and what you  _wanted_  to do to me," and here Mark smirks, like it's instinct (because it is), "and then revisit the concept we're discussing now."

Eduardo lets out a horrified squawk and kicks Mark good this time, so that the squeaky wheels hit a high, constant pitch as they move Mark far away from his desk and Eduardo sitting on it.

"Are you calling me a zoophile?"

Mark is laughing too hard to do much more than nod, this wheezy and humiliatingly geeky laugh that Eduardo says he loves (though he's obviously lying, the bastard). After a minute Eduardo's helpless smile turns into his even more helpless laughter and then they're both just losing it for a while, shaking and gasping for breath with their eyes a little wet.

"Considering I've seen firsthand how much  _humans_  turn you on, no, I'm actually not."

Mark eventually manages the words, as he scoots himself back over to his desk and takes the bottled apple juice Eduardo hands him (only making a slight face, mostly for Eduardo's little snort when he sees it) to uncap it and soothe the rawness laughing so hard left.

"So no coffee, you had time to wait in line at my favorite restaurant, and you're not wearing a tie today. The meeting was canceled."

Eduardo always lets out a surprised sound when he says things like this (though less often recently, as he gets more and more used to it), and he does it now, rubbing his shoe down the side of Mark's thigh in his sweatpants.

“Yeah, rescheduled for Friday with less presenting and more alcohol.”

“That can only help financial conferences, Wardo, trust me. I'd bring a six-pack to every one of Facebook's quarterly fiscal meetings if Dustin hadn't already caught me with a flask and banned any drinking."

Eduardo snickers.

"Yeah, well, I don't find those issues quite as boring as you do, Mark, and I happen to enjoy discussing important matters of revenue with people who actually calculate correctly."

Mark raises an eyebrow over the bottle of apple juice and asks after sipping at it a moment, maybe fucking around a little,

"How can you be sure they would have sober, though?"

Eduardo cocks his head and nods, conceding Mark's point, and they both grin at each other, used to this parry-and-thrust of their banter by now. 

Maybe Mark can kind of see Dustin's point, when Wardo looks at him that way.

Not that Mark  _feels_  like some kind of fuzzy animal around Wardo.

No, Eduardo just makes him feel a little carnal and more than a modicum of loved. Thankful, too, and more benevolent toward the world at large (because most of the time, it deserves nothing but his pity and ridicule, but it's hard to do either of those things coming off the receiving end of a great blowjob).

All of these things usually lead to Mark taking a longer lunch than he does the (rare, so rare) days Eduardo doesn't come to bring him anything. He can see in the way Eduardo watches him lick the sticky apple residue from his mouth that he's going to be doing that today.

"C'mere," he hears, soft and full of promise (and Eduardo always keeps his promises; he broke one once and Mark didn't know how to talk to him for a few days without yelling about how mortified and upset he was sitting in the restaurant alone while Eduardo's business dinner ran late). 

He does, pushing himself off his chair and wobbling a little on his legs before he slips between Eduardo's spread thighs and kisses him again, both of their mouths sweet with fruit juice as they slide and rub over each other.

"Wardo, fuck,  _fuck_  ," Mark gasps as they pull apart, because sometime during the last few minutes Eduardo moved to the edge of his desk and fitted their hips as together as possible, grinding slow against him, and Mark's body is starting to ache a little uncomfortably where it's touching Eduardo's, even as he gasps for air.

Eduardo grins and hops down, swiping his tongue over Mark's mouth and gently sliding the heel of his shoe teasingly down Mark's calf just once before he's suddenly taller again, tall enough that Mark'll have to get on his toes to kiss him the way he wants.

"Long lunch?" he asks, as though he doesn't already know (isn't already palming Mark's ass and nuzzling his ear, breath no more than gasps and cheeks flushed darkly, lips even darker than that).

Mark rolls his eyes and shoves him a little, as much to regain his equilibrium as anything.

"Long lunch," he says through half-gritted teeth, and leaves the bag that probably has some sort of low-fat dessert still therein sitting on the desk near where Eduardo perched, dragging a half-smirking, half-grinning Eduardo with him.

(They maybe spend the first five minutes of that long lunch on the side of the road with Eduardo's swollen and raw lips round Mark's dick, and Mark maybe comes within the first thirty seconds of those five minutes. Eduardo never laughs, just looks at him like Mark coming is the hottest thing he's ever seen and mauls him, so Mark counts it as a win either way and takes a half hour longer on his lunch—he's fucking CEO, he can do it whenever he wants to—to give Eduardo every reason to stay around and deal with Mark's inappropriate jokes and  _not_  laugh at his overeager arousal. He thinks maybe he can handle being looked at like he's warm and fuzzy and non-threatening if he gets Wardo gasping under him every day around lunchtime; yeah, he can definitely deal with that particular exchange.)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Fiction. Fan fiction. Based upon what was created by: fans of the Facebook story who turned it into a book, and the fans of that book who turned it into a movie, and the fans of that movie who turned it into one sexy man pining after an equally sexy man (or vice versa).
> 
> Written for the Winter TSN-A-THON. A BILLION DOLLARS ISN’T COOL, YOU KNOW WHAT’S COOL? TEAM PARKER.


End file.
